


Elves in the Underdark

by shaytrevor



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Prompt Fill, Sexual Content, Spells & Enchantments, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26254327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaytrevor/pseuds/shaytrevor
Summary: A drow sorcerer's plot for more influence is finally in his grasp after a high elf stumbles on him.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Other(s), Original Drow Character(s)/Original Elf Character(s), Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s) & Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Elves in the Underdark

**Author's Note:**

> This was for an [anonymous prompt](https://boards.4chan.org/y/thread/2686956/#2722795) that I really liked and started to write, but I underestimated it. I scrapped and rewrote the overarching plot motivations and character development a few times but couldn’t come up with aspects I was truly happy with, and it sapped my motivation to finish it. I spent a lot of time getting the story to the way it is now and I don’t want what I wrote to go to waste, so I’m posting it with hopes to come back to it someday with fresh eyes.

Ellas thought to himself. The drow he had been carefully trailing appeared unarmed, dressed in ornate dark robes and carrying a torch. It was doubtful a drow would venture too far away from their homes without supplies, and this one especially seemed ill-prepared for an excursion—they must be closing in on the drow’s home city. Fortune seemed on Ellas’ side after the cave-in separated him from the rest of his party. He still had a mission to carry out.

Ellas whispered under his breath a prayer for favor (Divine Favor, _PHB_ , page 234): “[Naralis](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Naralis_Analor), protect me; and let his soul pass quickly…” He’d swing hard for the head so the drow wouldn’t suffer. He sprinted from behind the stalagmite, silent on his feet, poised to swing his greatsword at the drow’s neck.

Thick silk webs emerged into being between the tunnel rock walls flooded Ellas’ vision instantly (Web, _PHB_ , page 287). They snared his feet, tangling his arms and legs as he broke through one web only to fall into more. He struggled against his sudden bindings—in a fraction of a second he’d been strung up and now dangled helplessly several inches above the cave floor.

Ellas panicked, if for a moment. The drow must have noticed him, then acted oblivious. Ellas struggled to free an arm to grab the dagger from his belt.

“You’re from the surface, aren’t you?” Asked the drow. The drow’s torchlight grew, and Ellas could hear the soft footsteps of the drow investigating. “Ah, you’re an elf! A _high elf._ ” His voice hinted a tinge of disdain. The drow was calm and calculated, observing Ellas from a safe distance. “I’m not sure how you think you’d get out of this situation, but I can tell you’re trying—”

Ellas stopped struggling for a moment to steal a glimpse of the drow, now that he was close. He was a sharp-faced drow that stood a few inches shorter than himself. The drow’s pale blue eyes stood out starkly against his charcoal-grey skin. “Who are you? Let me free!”

“Bemril Yauthlo,” said the drow, plainly. “And no, not yet. You’re of use to me—” Bemril dropped his hood, revealing a head of neck-length white hard. “You’re more use to me than you’d be use yourself.” He raised the long black sleeve of his robe to his shoulder, presenting a white tattoo of a spider on his charcoal grey skin.

Ellas felt a pit form deep in his gut. “You’re a follower of Lolth,” Ellas said. His heart started racing…Lolth, the Spider Queen.

“Indeed—”

Bemril had followed Lolth devoutly for decades, and his queen rewarded his dedication and obedience often. He stood atop his society’s court as its most powerful sorcerer, but Bemril was unsatisfied. He wanted more. He struggled for weeks, racking his brain for a plan to usurp control until today, when he caught this stray high elf…

[…]

“You’ll fuck me for your freedom, Ellas.”

Bemril’s words hung in the air. Ellas was dumbfounded. “I’ll do _what?_ ” Did he hear that correctly? “I’ll do no such thing, you heathen.”

“You will, actually…you’ll do anything I ask—” Bemril smirked. His plan for this elf was self-destructive, but Lolth would reward his brazen risks, he thought. What the high elf was here for wasn’t important, but the story Bemril could weave would give him freedom to stand atop his court however he’d see fit: he could bewitch this outsider and use him without consequence. He’d be the only one to know what transpired. Perhaps this paladin was the first of many inquisitors—a spy, or harbinger of an inquisition against the drow of his city. They’d ask for proof, though…he’d let this outsider fuck him—taint him—and claim he was assaulted, but allowed to live as a message. He could plead his case to Lolth of his court’s inferiority below him later, then purge his fellow members. Regardless, he’d have time to think of a better explanation for his assault later.

Ellas was speechless and swallowed hard at Bemril’s confidence: Something was wrong. Lolth’s followers were conniving, untrustworthy, backstabbing elves indoctrinated into lives of thievery, distrust, homicide, _genocide_ …but what was he thinking?

“Hmm…” Bemril pulled his component bag and tipped a vial of liquid onto his finger—it was a sweet oil. Before he spoke to Ellas he replaced the vial, exchanging it for the tongue of a snake.

With a grin, he licked the oil off his index finger. “ _Do not hurt me, or try to escape,_ ” he suggested (Suggestion, _PHB_ , page 279), his voice ringing in Ellas’ ears like a steeple bell. Ellas couldn’t help but listen. “…actually, since we’re alone down here, _why don’t you fuck me like your life depends on it?_ ” Bemril lifted Ellas’ chin to look up at him. “ _Sodomize me, paladin, and I’ll let you go._ ”

The suggestion burrowed into Ellas’ thoughts like a parasite. Why would his captor want to be…fucked? Was he mad? Although, it had been years since Ellas had been intimate—sex with anyone sounded marvelous. Irresistible. But…why here and now? His request had to be a trick, but, he thought, maybe pleasing Bemril would sway him to let him go…but it was the word of a drow?

…Ellas wretched against the webbing. “You should free me,” he groaned, voice strained with effort as he fought against his own words. “I-I’m sure we’d have a better time if I’m not bound like this.”

Bemril eyed his captive suspiciously. He was almost too eager for the opportunity. He was turned too easily. Yet, even a holy man was no match for his suggestion and would’ve bent to him, as strong a sorcerer as he was. The webs disappeared with a snap of Bemril’s fingers.

The exchange was fast and brutish: Ellas grabbed Bemril by the shoulders, whirling him around to slam his back against the cold cave wall, pinning him. His elven frame defied his strength. Bemril grunted, shocked and jarred from impact, but prepared to fight, necrotic magic already sizzling between his fingers. Ink-black tendrils of shadowy darkness (Enervation, _XGE_ , page 155) began clawing from behind their conjurer towards Ellas.

 _Was he not my puppet? The cretin turned on me! So be it._ Bemril growled, “die like a—”

Ellas forced Bemril’s threat back with a deep, deep kiss. He gripped the drow’s hips, pressing their bodies together against the cell wall and pulling Bemril’s hips against his own. Bemril lost his concentration to the hands searching for a path inside his robes, and the inky shadows dissolved.

Bemril forcefully broke away from Ellas’ kiss. Ellas succumbed to the suggestion and was putty before him. “Strip yourself,” he said, pushing the paladin away. Ellas stood half a foot taller than him, and the sudden strength he’d been blindsided with was alarming. Bemril could still kill this elf eleven ways if he were attacked, but he’d suggested Ellas leave him unharmed.

Ellas stripped his armor and dressings quickly, leaving them messily grouped nearby. His cock was firming with anticipation and excitement despite his mental protest. Slowly, he accepted that what was to come was unavoidable.

With a glance at Ellas through the dim light of his torch, he was almost looking forward to fulfilling their “deal”—the elf was a handsome one, and it’d been years since he’d had sex himself. It was impossibly risky to trust any other drow enough to lie with them given his position. Bemril removed his robes and laid them tidily.

[…]

Ellas obeyed, seating himself on the cold stone floor and gently lying back. His cock stood erect, hard and twitching with anticipation.

Bemril stepped over and stood straddling the paladin’s abdomen, then kneeled atop him. A hint of sweet fragrance cut through the damp of the tunnel, tickling Ellas’ nose. Bemril gently wrapped the slender fingers of his right hand around Ellas’ cock, his palm slicked with oil. Ellas’ breathing quickened. His hips bucked slightly against the gentle touch.

Bemril used the same oil to prepare Ellas’s cock as he did to bewitch Ellas into fucking him.

“Stay still.”

Bemril sank painfully slowly down Ellas’ length, all the way to its base, taking the high elf’s cock until his charcoal skin nestled against high elf’s hips.

[…]

“Please, Bemril, let me fuck you.” Bemril’s suggestion was to fuck him as though his life depended on it; if he could satisfy Bemril, he’d certainly be let free once the drow’s request was filled.

Ellas took control: with care, Ellas rolled to the right, taking the drow atop him down the cave floor. He kept rolling, righting himself to a kneel, over the drow, and slammed his hips downward, connecting with Bemril’s lifted ass cheeks with an echoing _slap_.

A short, yelping moan escaped Bemril when Ellas pushed his cock in to its base, sending butterflies through Bemril’s stomach—they felt incredible. He locked his feet together behind Ellas’ lumbar to stop the high elf from pulling away, or continuing.

Ellas halted instinctively at the yelp. “I’m sorry, I—”

Suddenly, Bemril had to cover for himself. “You play rough—” he murmured. “I’m fine.”

Ellas slowly resumed, but worked up to a firm pace. The tunnels were black as pitch and silent as a grave, now save for the breathing and panting of the two elves. The coarse cave floor scraped Bemril’s back, but the awkward position and minor scuffs were far outweighed by his immense pleasure. Ellas’ manhandling would help further his claims of attack, but he was quietly relishing sex.

“I—” Ellas stuttered, his facial expression betraying the situation. “…I’m going to cum.”

“Not yet!” Bemril shouted.

Ellas reflexively pulled his cock out, backing off of Bemril. Bemril carefully stood—he was leaking pre-cum and hard as stone. “Enough of that. Lie on your back.”

Ellas obeyed, returning to where they started. “I’m still close,” Ellas panted as Bemril sat back down on his cock.

“Good…” He leaned down on Ellas, pressing his erection against the high elf’s naval, and rode him hard, fucking himself with Ellas’ cock. “Cum inside me, mutt!”

Ellas couldn’t fight the pleasure or the suggestion any longer, and with a moan, he exploded inside Bemril. He mewled and moaned, looking up into the eyes of the drow who had overpowered him as more and more cum squirted into the drow. He struggled, thrusting up into Bemril and forcing his load deeper, but excess semen trickled out, leaking from Bemril around Ellas’ cock.

Satisfied, Bemril pulled himself up and off of Ellas when he relaxed, spent. Ellas’ cum dripped from his open hole. But Bemril had more important concerns: now that Ellas had obeyed his suggestion, he had but a moment before his captive would regain free will. The elf dog would come down from his high and Bemril wouldn’t take chances.

Bemril donned his robes quickly before tossing his lit torch to the ground by Ellas. His robe stuck to the wet patches on his ass as the robe’s fabric settled.

“Return to your _Feywild_ , Ellas,” Bemril commanded. “Get out of these tunnels. You have one chance to leave.”

Ellas shook the daze from his thoughts. He was freed from the suggestion, but dazed. He was still breathless. “What? But…”

“You heard me,” the drow hissed. “If I see you again, I’ll kill you in an instant.” While Ellas picked himself off the tunnel floor, Bemril finished adjusting his robes. “You’ve served your purpose for me—rest assured, not a creature down here has use for you alive.”

With his last threat, Bemril vanished in a blink into the tunnel dark, leaving Ellas naked and used—but unharmed—and with a torch to guide him. When he snapped to, Ellas quickly retrieved his armor and belongings and carefully retreated the way he came.

* * *

Ellas would not delve back into the Underdark alone again, not after being used—raped—by the mad drow sorcerer. He thought carefully about Bemril during his venture back to the surface. His first orgasm in decades with a dark elf that seduced him in the dirt and grime of the Underdark.

The entirety of drow culture was born from backstabbing, distrust, and _never_ lowering one’s guard. Even a lover could turn on another drow in a snap. Outsiders had no place in their society, and so there was no risk to Bemril’s status to charm Ellas, kill him, maim him…

Ellas sighed. He’d prayed to Naralis time and time again already for understanding and forgiveness, and for the safety of the rest of the elf party he’d journeyed underground with. Hopefully they were safe too, and had retreated. He’d done nothing wrong himself beyond failing his quest: chastity was not a pillar for Naralis’ followers, but he was handily defeated and taken by an enemy, leaving Bemril without a single mark.

Bemril was deranged, he thought. His memory was hazy, shrouded by fog, but Bemril thirsted for any kind of affection or pleasure. The day and night distinction between Bemril’s power in capturing him, then asking—demanding!—to be fucked and sodomized was madness. Just thinking about the drow’s sordid commands made Ellas blush.

…but was it the spell lingering, or did he actually pity Bemril?

Bemril must have used him for… _something_. Drow don’t agree or submit without a motive. Bemril held every card, and could have fed him to whatever beasts they tame down there, even after getting what he wanted from Ellas.


End file.
